Why Don't We Have A Mommy?
by AmiNoo
Summary: Wee!Chester fic. When 5-year-old Sam's questioning phase finally leads them to a tragic subject, Dean realizes that snappy remarks aren't gonna cut it this time: it was time for a chick-flick...


_Hey y'all :):):)_

_This is just a short one-shot I wrote one day lol_

**_Summary: Wee!Chester fic. When 5-year-old Sam's questioning phase finally leads them to a tragic subject, Dean realizes that snappy remarks aren't gonna cut it this time: it was time for a chick-flick..._**

_Lots of brotherly fluff of course :D Hope y'all enjoy!!_

* * *

September 5th, 1988

South Dakota

It had been a long couple of days at Uncle Bobby's. Their Dad had once again gone out on a job, leaving both Dean and Sam behind, waiting for his return.

Dean kept a watchful eye on his little brother, but it wasn't particularly needed. Bobby was all the protection they needed… it didn't matter. Dean was a big brother, his instincts and responsibilities would never waver for Sam.

"Deanie!"

Dean glanced up from the magazine he was reading to see Sam come trotting down the hallway, a pout on his face as his lower lip jutted out: a clear indication of a strop or some kind of inconvenience.

The elder brother sighed and leant back into the couch, continuing reading half-heartedly. "What Sammy?"

Sam stopped in front of his brother, arms crossed across his small chest as he continued to pout in wonder.

"Sam, what is it?" came Dean's unrelenting voice from behind the magazine.

"You know Bobby's bed covers?" Sam asked, shifting from one foot to another uneasily, waiting for Dean's reply.

All he received was a slight grunt.

"W-why, why do they smell wike old people?" Dean lowered the magazine to meet his brother's gaze and once realising the serious and inquisitive look that coveted Sam's face, he tried to suppress a laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"They smell wike old people." Sam replied sweetly, watching as Dean giggled, unable to hide it any longer. "What so funny?"

Dean shook his head and raised his magazine once more. "Ah, he's probably been sleeping with old ladies!" He chuckled. "Good old Bobby."

Sam scratched his head slowly, quite clearly puzzled. "He shares a bed with his gwandma?"

"No," Dean began to explain. It was always this way when Sam asked questions. He never understood the answers… _ever_. "I mean, he _sleeps _with old ladies."

The 5 year old was still quite clearly lost and furrowed his brow in concentration, searching for a solution that he could never possibly find, or at least, not yet anyway.

Dean just laughed. Sam always ended up more confused than before after Dean had explained something to him and Dean couldn't help but laugh at his little brother's efforts. It really was kinda cute.

Bobby entered the living room, stopping short at Dean's smirk and Sam's puzzled expression. _Great, what now?_

"Hey, boys," he started, warily. "What you up to?"

"Oh nothing!" Dean replied, his best attempt at innocence. Bobby just scoffed. He knew the boy too well.

"Uncle Bobby?" Bobby looked down at Sam and into those adorable puppy dog eyes.

He smiled. "Yes Sammy?"

"Why do you sweep with your gwandma?" The question was busting with innocence and Bobby couldn't help but let his jaw drop in shock, his eyebrows raised. He heard Dean burst into uncontrollable laughter and sent a warning, rather pissed off glance towards him before softening his gaze to the small boy before him.

"I don't Sammy," Bobby answered kindly. "What could possibly give you that idea?" He asked, once again letting his gaze return to Dean, who shrugged helpfully, still smirking.

Sam looked at his hands, fumbling with his fingers, "Cos, cos your bed covers smell wike old people."

"They do?"

Nodding, Sam murmured, "Uh-huh."

"And how do you know it smells like an old person?" Bobby continued, watching Sam gaze at him, once again absolutely baffled. "Every old person smells different you see."

Dean closed his eyes in a grimace. _Nice try, but you're just gonna confuse him even more._

"S-so," Sam stuttered, trying to work out what Bobby was telling him. His tongue stuck out slightly as he thought, making Bobby's strong heart almost melt at the sight. "So, it doesn't smell wike old people?"

"No, Sammy."

"I smells wike you?"

"Yeah, it does."

"So it smells wike you and your lady friends you sweep with?" Bobby groaned and felt a muscle twitch in his neck. This was impossible.

"Yes, Sammy," he finally gave in. "Yes that's right." Sam smiled happily - pleased he'd worked it out. "Has that sorted out your problem?"

Sam nodded enthusiastically, "Yep! Fanks, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby winked and ruffled the little boy's hair before announcing he was going out back to the junkyard. On the way to the front door, he cuffed Dean around the back of the head, muttering, "Idiot."

The door closed behind Bobby as he left and Dean twisted around to look at his still beaming brother. "Sammy?"

"Yes Deanie!" Sam cooed joyfully, practically bouncing up and down with joy.

Dean shook his head. "No, it's Dean, not _Deanie_, ok?"

"Otay, Dean."

"Yeah, well Sammy, you can't go round asking personal questions like that all the time you know?" _It was time for the kid to learn,_ Dean told himself. _Better sooner rather than later. _

"Why?" _Questions, questions, questions..._ Dean was pretty sure that it was quickly becoming one of Sam's hobbies to go along with his story book obsession and cookie addiction.

"Cos, some people like things to be kept private," Dean answered swiftly, turning back around to continue his browsing.

There was no reply for a second, but Dean could hear Sam's soft padding feet moving closer.

"Dean?"

"Yes Sammy."

"What mean 'pwivate'?" The older boy sighed. He'd walked into that one. The kid was 5, seemed fairly unlikely he'd know what private meant.

But, just to make sure… "What do you think it means Sammy?"

Sam hesitated then mumbled. "Well, I heard this man tell a girl that he had to speak with her in pwivate." Dean nodded pleased. This would make it easier. "And this other man said he'd like to show her his pwivates and he…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean burst out, quickly, dropping his magazine as he raised his hands in a silencing way. He exhaled slowly. "Ok, let's just stick with the first one for now, ok?" _For now… how promising! _

"Otay."

"So this man told this girl that he needed to speak to her in private. Then I suppose he left with her somewhere?" Dean asked, knowing the answer already.

"Uh-huh, they left wight after," Sam answered thoughtfully, leaning against the arm of the couch as he listened intently.

"Yeah, well that means that they went somewhere alone, as in to tell her something," Dean offered, watching Sam's expression. "Like a secret."

Sam's eyes widened and he clapped his hands together knowingly, "Oh, a secwet! I know what that is: where you tell someone something you don't want no-one else to know."

Dean nodded proudly. He had to hand it to him - Sam was pretty damn smart for his age. "That's right."

"So priwate is where you don't want no-one to know about something," Sam spoke slowly, still processing the words.

"Exactly, so maybe Bobby wanted to keep something private," Dean continued gently. "So you shouldn't always ask him about everything like that." _Or me for that matter._

The little boy nodded, smiling his small dimpled smile. Dean felt a smile tug at his lips as well. His little brother was so gullible sometimes, but in an adorable way. Dean couldn't help but admit that Sam was fairly sweet for a kid. He'd never say it out loud but then again, it's the thought that counts.

Dean lightly poked Sam's stomach, omitting a giggle from the younger brother. "Go and play with your toys Sammy, ok?"

Sam, although he already agreed, couldn't resist. "Why?"

Dean let his head fall back against the couch in distress, "Cos."

"Cos why?"

_Think Winchester, think! _"Cos I'm older, which means I'm always right," Dean said cheekily, rolling his head to a side as he studied Sam.

Sam smiled: a huge smile at his brother. "Otay, Dean!" Then he skipped off, back towards their room.

Dean chuckled, grabbing his magazine once more. _Yeah, as I said, totally gullible!_

He heard a rummaging noise as Sam searched for what was most likely his story books, either those or Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles action figures. To Dean it didn't really matter – he hated them both.

How Sam could spend so much time playing or gazing at the same book for hours on end simply astounded Dean. He'd have gone stark raving mad after five minutes!

The noise stopped and Dean let out a relieved breath. _Finally, a few minutes of peace! _

Opening the magazine to the correct page, he began to read again, lost in his own comfortable little world.

That was until the quick patter of footsteps as someone re-entered the room, stopping directly in front of Dean who refused to look up. He was in a relaxed state of mind now. He didn't need disturbing…

"Dean?" It was Sam, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke.

Dean moaned and just read on, blocking out his brother with the magazine, "Sam, not now."

"But Dean…" The voice was pleading and Dean sighed, lowering his magazine to survey Sam with knowing green eyes. He was a little shocked at the visible paleness of Sam's face, and the way his eyes brimmed with so far unshed tears. The small boy twisted from side to side uncomfortably, his hands behind his back.

Dean sat forward a little, concerned. "Sammy, what is it?"

Sam gazed at him with those eyes, making Dean feel just as lost and broken as his brother, then Sam drew out his hand, holding what was clasped in it out in front of him.

"Dean," Sam began again, confusion mixed with sadness laced in his voice. "Why don't we have a Mommy?"

Dean just stared in shock at his little brother's question before letting his gaze drop to what Sam was holding in his hand. It was a photograph, in front of the old house back in Lawrence, Kansas.

They all looked happy: John, Mary, Dean and Little Sammy: the Winchester's as they should have been.

Dean looked away. He hated talking about his Mom. It just brought back the realisation that she truly was gone…

"Where'd you get that Sam?" Dean asked, his tone serious as he stared at Sam.

Sam shook his head, clutching the picture close to him. "Found it."

"Where?"

"In our woom, near the cwoset…"

Dean ran a hand through his sandy coloured hair. _It must've fallen out of Dad's jacket pocket. _

"Ok," Dean held out his hand. "Give it here Sam."

Sam paused then clutched the photo to his chest, hugging it silently. "No."

"Sam…"

Sam shook his head again, defiantly. "Dean, why don't we have a Mommy?"

Dean groaned and leant back against the couch. He couldn't do this, not now…

"Sam, go back to your room." It was an order, plain and simple but as much as Dean disliked it, he'd have hated it more if he was forced to reminisce with his 5 year old brother.

"But…" The tone of Sam's heartbroken voice would have been enough to make anyone waver, but Dean was adamant. He couldn't do this, he couldn't…

"Now!" It hadn't meant to come out that harshly and Dean saw with regret that Sam jumped slightly. He knew what would come next and sat, powerless to stop it.

Tear after tear rolled down Sam's face as he cried. He hugged the photo tighter but didn't move, making Dean suffer in torment as he watched his little brother's pain.

Dean sighed sadly. He didn't want this. "Sammy…"

"Cos…of…me…" He chocked out between anguished sobs.

"What?"

Sam sniffed, shaking uncontrollably as he wept. "S-she… not… here… cos… of… me… You… h-happy… then… me… and…"

Dean shook his head, "No, Sammy, no!" But Sam cried on, lost in his own world of tears.

Holding out a hand, Dean beckoned to his little brother kindly. "Sammy, come here."

Sam obliged, shuffling forward into Dean's open arms, clambering onto Dean's lap. He curled up as Dean wrapped his arms around him and began to rock him gently.

"Ssh, Sammy," Dean soothed gently, stroking Sam's long hair. "Ssh, it's ok…"

The sobs began to subside slightly and Sam hiccoughed, one small hand clasping Dean's t-shirt, resting his head against his brother's chest.

Dean continued his calming motion, until Sam's cries had completely stopped, leaving only small sniffles as a remnant of the outbreak.

"Now, Sammy," Dean spoke calmly. "What was that all about?"

Sam sniffed and mumbled into Dean's t-shirt, "She weft cos of me."

"No, don't you ever say that ok Sammy. She didn't leave cos of you, you have to know that!" Dean exclaimed, shocked that his little brother could ever blame himself for why their Mom wasn't here. It most certainly wasn't his fault.

Sam nodded weakly and Dean rocked him some more. As much as he hated it, he knew he had to talk about it with Sammy now. _Suck it up, Dean: your brother needs you…_

But Sam got there first. His voice crept into his thought, his sweet, innocent tone penetrating Dean's soul as he listened. "Why did Mom weave us, Dean?"

Dean gulped and took a deep breath, "Cos she had to, Sammy."

"Why?" Sam's huge eyes gazed up at his big brother, his protector, his hero. He'd always been there for him, through everything. Surely he could be here for him now too.

"She was needed."

"By who?"

"By the Angels," Dean replied, meeting Sam's curious gaze. "The Angels needed her, Sam, so she left."

"But we needed her too!" Sam burst out, almost pleading with Dean, as if he could somehow reverse what had happened.

Dean closed his eyes briefly for a second. "I know that, Sammy and she didn't want to go."

"Then why did she?" Sam asked, tilting his head with a puzzled gesture. "If she didn't want to go, she didn't have to."

_If only things were that simple Sammy, _Dean thought. _if only…_

"She had to go. But before she did, she left me and Dad a little present," Dean smiled happily, watching as Sam clutched his t-shirt closer.

Sam looked slightly crestfallen. "I didn't get a pwesent."

Dean chuckled lightly. "No silly! Her present for me and Dad was you!"

Sam frowned then slowly, a smile began to light up his face. "I was your pwesent?"

"Yep."

"Wike a birthday pwesent?" Sam asked excitedly, bouncing up and down in Dean's lap, "Or a Cwistmas pwesent?"

Dean shook his head and gently pinched Sam on the nose, making him giggle merrily. "No, you were a special present: a _Sammy_ present."

"Was I a good pwesent?"

"The best," Dean hugged him tightly. "All I ever wanted…"

Sam smiled, dimples flashing proudly. "S-so I was Mom's pwesent to you?"

"Uh-huh, then she left to go to the Angels, way up there," he said pointing out of a window and to the clouds circling above.

Sam followed his gaze in wonder, mouth open as he stared. "But she still weft."

Dean looked away, letting his eyes drop down. "Yeah, she still left."

"Why doesn't she come back?"

"She can't," Dean answered, seeing the happiness in Sam's eyes begin to fade again.

"Why not?"

Dean shook his head, fighting back tears. "Cos the night she left, she went up into the clouds and became an Angel. You know what she always used to tell me?" Sam shook his head, his gaze never wandering from Dean's face. "That 'Angels are watching over us'. Mom's an angel, so she's watching over us, even now."

Sam's eyes widened in wonder, "Really?"

Dean nodded, then lifting Sam up onto his feet, he also stood up. "Look, I'll show you."

Grasping his little brother's hand, he led him outside until they got a clear view of the sky, the small white wisps of cloud staining its true blue colour.

Dean then began to tell Sam where their Mom was, staring up at the sky. "You see, Mom is up there, sat on the clouds, looking down on us."

Sam glanced at the clouds above them, "Even now?"

"Even now."

Sam thought for a moment. "So, we can see her?"

Dean smiled. "Sure we can! Look, at that cloud right there." He pointed towards a white cloud high above, Sam obliging in fascination. "If you look real carefully, you can see her." Dean told him, lowering his hand again as he watched Sam squint.

It took a few seconds before Sam gasped and grabbed Dean's arm. "Dean! I can see her! I see Mom!"

He knew it was just the kid's imagination, but it didn't matter. He gently ruffled Sam's hair, whispering. "Good job, kiddo."

The youngest Winchester beamed at him, before watching the clouds again.

"Dean?"

"Hmm…"

"I want to be an angel." Sam grinned up at him, his eyes twinkling with delight.

The older brother shook his head. "No, you can't be an angel. Not yet, Sammy. Not for a long time…"

A simple tilt of Sam's head provoked Dean into answering the unasked question, "Cos you're not needed as Angel yet." Sam let his head droop, sadly. "But you're needed, down here, with me. I need you as my little brother."

Sam met Dean's kind and yet somehow serious gaze with affirmation and he quickly threw his arms around Dean's waist, holding on tightly.

"Otay, Dean. I'll stay and be your wickle brother." Dean just smiled and let an arm droop protectively over Sam's shoulder.

"Oh and Sam," Sam raised his head to stare upwards at Dean. "If anyone ever asks you why you don't have a Mommy, you tell them this: you do have a Mom, she's an angel and she's watching over you. She'll always be with you no matter what, ok?"

Dean saw the mop of hair nod and watched the puppy dog eyes blink at him, "Otay."

Sam rested his head back against Dean's stomach and Dean watched him, a proud smile on his face.

"Wove you Dean…" came a muffled voice from below him and Dean chuckled happily.

"Love ya Sammy." Then he raised his head to the sky, watching the clouds above. Tears welled in his eyes, but never spilled over as he thought about her, the pained memories still vivid in his mind.

He could almost swear he saw her, high above, smiling at him. Her blonde hair was swirling about her, shimmering golden in the sun's rays.

Dean bit his lip, trying to stifle the cries that were close to escaping him and he watched as she faded: a figment of his imagination.

Then, managing a shy smile, Dean spoke out with his mind, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she could hear him.

_Love you too, Mom…_

* * *

_I couldn't resist the sensitive chick-flicky moments lol_

_Please leave me a review and let me know if you liked it!!_

_Hugs, Ami-Rose x x x x x_


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